


Getting Lucky (A Wincest St. Patty's Day)

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Holidays with the Wincesters [5]
Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Jealous!John, Leprechauns, Luck of the Irish, M/M, St. Patrick's Day, Surprise Kissing, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, sex spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is on the Hunt for a Leprechaun. Dean finds a coin in his pocket, one that has a strange effect on the people around him. Sammy and John are far from unaffected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Lucky (A Wincest St. Patty's Day)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Underage. No ages listed, but I picture Sam between 12-14 for this fic. Also contains incest. Lots and lots of incest. Seriously people, if you don't like this stuff, don't click on it.

Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely though, those two boys? Their da thinkin’ he could outwit an ol’ beast like him. But as he knew, there wa’nt much a man could do against such a trickster. Trappin’ him would be about the extent of it, but he had a plan—foolproof! Luck was on his side, it was. Nothing, not nobody, could stop him when his mind was set. If the luck of the Irish was what he had, then it was about time the luck was shared.

 

* * *

 

 

It started as a tingle when he touched the coin. Dean didn’t think much of it, though. It looked pretty cool, four-leaved clover stamped on one side, completely gold. He slipped it into his pocket, a memento from a random town they’d happened to pass through on a Hunt.

He hardly noticed the few women who hit on him when he walked into the bar, or the old ladies who seemed to gravitate toward him in the diner the next day. Even the way the townies seemed a bit too neighborly didn’t register with Dean. It wasn’t until the following night when, instead of getting upset when Dean beat him at pool, the man he was playing decided to toss him up against the wall, and kissed him instead. The man’s lips were full and skilled, but Dean pushed him away. As attractive as he was, he wasn’t Sammy or John, and it felt weird to kiss a man who wasn’t family. And, damn, didn’t that make him sick as fuck to think, but it was true.

Dean pushed firmly against the man’s shoulders to break it off, but he wouldn’t budge. He covered Dean’s body with his own, grinding against him and stealing Dean’s breath away with every press of his lips. It was shock, he told himself, that made him forget his training. A poltergeist, a windego, a freaking _demon_ for christsakes, and he would have had no problem kicking some major ass. Some drunk guy, though, bringing his hand up to secure Dean’s lips while they forcefully made out, and he was frozen in shock.

Luckily, he didn’t stay that way for long.

“Get the fuck offa him!” he heard from his left.

Dean recognized the voice before he saw his father tear the man away from him. He didn’t see much beyond that because he was leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. Why the hell couldn’t he breathe right?

“Dean? You alright?” John asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, coughing a little.

“Uh.” There was a short pause, and Dean could tell from his tone of voice that things could get bad very quickly. “We should get out of here. Come on, son.” With a hand to the back of his neck—it felt rough, but firm, comforting—Dean was led outside and directly to the Impala, catching hungry glimpses of every person in the bar.

“Hey, baby!” a woman called from across the street. “Wanna have a good time?”

“He’s not legal,” John called back, slightly angry, though Dean wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t the first time he’d been approached by a hooker and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Never stopped me before, baby!” Then the woman turned and laughed with her friends, though when she faced him again, Dean could make out the familiar glint of arousal in her eye, mimicked in the expression of everyone around her.

“Dad?” he asked, a little worried.

“Get in the car, Dean.” The tone was no-nonsense, so he didn’t argue, slipping into the passenger seat and buckling up.

They drove in silence to the house they were staying in. Dean watched his father grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter with every passing mile. Then they were in the driveway and John was outside, away from Dean and looking more relaxed the further away he got.

“Dad?” he asked, worried now, following him into the house. “What the hell is going on?”

“Dean?” Sammy asked from the bed as they entered. His eyes went black with lust and nothing was going to stop him from having every part of Dean. He went from the bed to across the room in less then three seconds, parted Dean’s lips with his own in a few more. He jumped up, wrapped himself around Dean and struggled with the fact that Dean wasn’t showing enough skin for his liking.

“Sammy,” John ordered. “Get down.”

Sam didn’t show any indication of having heard the order. He just bucked his hips against Dean’s stroking Dean’s cock through his jeans. Dean slipped his tongue into Sam’s mouth and the younger boy moaned, pressing for _moremoremore_ , until Dean obliged.

“ _Deeeeeeeean_ ,” Sammy keened. “Need –ne –need…” and he trailed off, in favor of capturing Dean’s mouth again with his own.

John was tired of holding back. In the bar, it had been obvious that Dean was unwilling to do whatever that man had in mind—and John had half a mind to go back out and find him, just to kick his ass for laying a finger on his son—but Dean was more than willing now, and to hold back when his eldest son wanted, was more than he was capable.

“Don’t worry, baby boy,” Dean whispered when his mouth wasn’t occupied. “I’ve got you. Dad?” Dean asked, somewhat nervously when John came up behind him to mouth at his neck.

“Mmmm?”

“What are you –ou –u, _ohgod._ ” And Dean’s mind went blank of anything but the feel of his father’s mouth on him and Sammy’s cock against his own and the tingling sensation he could feel down his spine in anticipation when his father’s hand slipped down the back of his jeans and a thick finger circled, circled, pressed gently inside his hole before retreating out only to circle again.

“Dean, Dean, need,” Sammy said, still only capable of single syllable words, whole sentences beyond him at the moment. Then Sammy was gone, off of Dean completely. Only John’s bracing hands kept him from falling after overcompensating for a missing Sammy.

Sam’s hands were still on him, though, reaching, touching, grasping. They trembled as they methodically removed his clothing, having to push John out of the way for a moment to get his shirt off. John’s anger was abrupt and frightening, but was gone the instant he recognized his youngest son and what he’d been trying to do. Then, it was all John could do not to rip the clothing off himself.

Dean was naked. Sam was naked. Seconds later, John was naked. There wasn’t anything holding them back then.

Sam spread himself out on the bed, practically begging Dean to just come over and _fuck him already_ , but Dean was busy with John and his wandering hands. They ghosted over his arms and sides, tweaking his nipples gently before moving lower to stroke at his cock. Dean gasped when he felt John’s fingers inside of him—two this time—moving in pace with his slow strokes. Dean moaned against his father’s shoulder, biting down when the twist of his fingers hit _that spot_ just right. He tasted blood, but none of that mattered to him in that moment. With the pleasure-pain of John inside of him, there wasn’t much that could pull him out of it.

Then Sammy’s voice broke through the fog and Dean turned to listen, forgetting everything that didn’t revolve around his brother.

“Dean?” Sammy asked, and his voice sounded so broken, so dejected and alone, that Dean had to turn away from his father to go to him. “Dean? Please?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to his naval. “I told you I’ve got you, didn’t I?”

Sam nodded.

“Then lemme take care of you.”

He breached Sam’s hole with one finger, surprised to find him already slick and stretched for him.

“You ready for me, Sammy?’

Sam nodded frantically, head bobbing. “Always,” he gasped. “Always ready for you, Dean. Always.”

Dean lined his cock up with Sam’s hole and pushed until he was fully sheathed inside, Sam moaning and gasping loudly into the sheets. Dean thanked whoever was listening that they were squatting instead of renting a hotel room, no neighbors in sight.

John’s hands never lost contact with Dean’s skin. They roamed and pinched, rubbed and plucked, his fingers working in and out of Dean at a leisurely pace. Dean matched his father, driving his cock into Sammy’s stretched out hole in time with the fingers, angling to reach that perfect spot. Dean found Sam’s prostate at the same time his father crooked his fingers just right. They gasped in synch, hips stuttering.

“So close, Sammy,” Dean mumbled. His thrusts sped up, a need building in him just waiting for release. Every drive inside Sam’s hole was pleasure, every nip at his neck, heaven.

“Gonna, gonna, _Dean!”_ Sammy came with his brother’s name on his lips, cock spewing strand after strand of come across his belly.

Dean followed not too far behind, shooting deep inside of Sam, riding out the waves until he was too tired to keep going. Once the high wore off a bit, he could feel the rapidly-cool stick of his father’s release against his back and he smirked in response, even as he felt his limbs turn to jelly.

Dean collapse against the bed, panting heavily while John and Sam kissed and licked their way up and down his body. Their recent orgasms did nothing to cool their erections and the hungry look in their eyes didn’t dim in the slightest. Dean lifted his neck to look at them, legs too weak and lazy to stand and arms as limp as noodles beside him.

It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

When Dean woke, John and Sam were curled up together beside him, still sleeping off last night’s activities. Dean snuck out of bed and dressed quickly, slipping a couple of twenties in his pocket before walking the half-mile to the diner for breakfast. He ordered three specials and tried his best to ignore how every eye was trained on him, feeling like prey in a roomful of vultures. He shivered when the waitress came out with his order and leaned in uncomfortably close to hand it to him. He thanked her anyway and darted for the door as quickly as humanly possible.

He paused in the doorway. There, on the corner across the street from him, was the little man he’d seen the day before, sipping his beer on a stool at the bar. He tilted his hat at Dean and shot him a knowing smirk, not the smallest amount of arousal in the gaze, and sauntered away, cane tapping rhythmically against the cement.

Dean’s brow creased in confusion until he remembered the coin still in his pocket, stamped with a four leaf clover. He palmed the coin and continued back to the house on the edge of town. John and Sammy were still asleep when he walked in, covers strewn about every which way. Dean put on a pot of coffee as the events of the night before were put into perspective.

Sam groaned and stretched, eyelids fluttering open, immediately seeking Dean. Sam’s cock flared back to life and he licked his lips in anticipation. Dean swallowed loudly. Maybe there was some credibility to this whole luck of the Irish thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Next installment to go up in a few days. Stay tuned ;) If you like it, let me know. Comment!


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